


Twelve Weeks One Autumn

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Completely Shameless Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mostly warm fuzzies, Post-Rosslyn Recovery, Pre-shipping, With just a touch of angst for flavor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: It took Josh Lyman twelve long weeks to recover from being shot in the chest at the Newseum. He needed a lot of help along the way, and luckily his trusty assistant and his best buddy were right there to fill the bill. Little stories exploring how Sam and Donna helped Josh get through the three very difficult months that took place during "The Midterms."





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody, here I am with a new multi-part work! I swear to god I am still working on my current WIPs, and in fact I have 1.5 chapters done and nearly ready to go on Ourselves and Immortality, so look for that very soon. This fic is by special request for a reader who read OaI, got their heart broken, and begged me to write something fluffy and nice about Josh's recovery to make them feel better. Honestly, after writing OaI, I could use some fluff myself! So here we go!

Regaining consciousness wasn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. Josh was dimly aware that he’d been awake before, or perhaps he hadn’t been asleep at all, just floating in a haze somewhere in the neighborhood of wakefulness. There were voices sometimes, and hands, doing uncomfortable things that he would’ve objected to if the conversation between brain and body had been moving a little more swiftly. As it was, the discomfort subsided like a wave into the deep, still pool of pain that he could sense lay somewhere beneath him. Something bad had happened, he remembered that much, but the details were extremely sketchy. Sirens, people shouting, legs moving past him, and gunshots-

He flinched away from the thought, letting it slide off into the pool as well.. Easier to go back to sleep for a little while longer. When he woke again sometime later, he was someplace brighter, light pressing gently against his eyelids and encouraging him to open them and look around. Easier said than done, apparently. His body was not at all sure he was ready to be fully awake yet. Josh surrendered for the moment and listened instead. Slow, deep breathing on the one side, punctuated by the occasional soft snore. It was pretty relaxing. On the other side there was rustling, turning pages.

“Okay, here’s one you’ll like.” The voice startled but did not surprise him. Of course Donna would be here with him, where else would she be? Donna was always where he needed her. “I don’t know if I should read it to you, though. Hearing about all your many accomplishments is only going to make you insufferable. More insufferable.”

Her voice was scratchy and Josh thought it sounded a little painful. She had to be tired, or maybe she’d been talking too much. She needed some of those awful honey-lemon throat drops she carried around in her purse. Also, hey! He screwed up his face into a frown and forced his own eyes open. “Not… ‘suffrble,” he managed, sounding less righteously indignant than he’d hoped.

Donna dropped her magazine. She looked tired too, maybe more tired and less put-together than Josh had ever seen her, with no makeup on and her hair bundled up into one of those monster-claw things behind her head. Stray wisps flew around and hit her cheeks as she spun to look at him, and he forgave her the insufferable jab for the way she smiled at him. “Josh! You’re awake!” She sounded incredibly relieved, like that outcome had somehow been in doubt.

“Yeh,” he mumbled, “y’keep talkin’.” This weak attempt at banter was rewarded by another brilliant smile, and the warm feeling of her fingers wrapping around his. He got the fleeting idea that this was not a new thing, that she’d been holding his hand like this before, but it was impossible to remember clearly. It was nice now.

“I had to stay awake,” Donna retorted, running her thumb gently over his fingers. “It was pretty boring in here with you lazing around for a full day and a half. Poor Sam couldn’t hack it.” She nodded and Josh managed to shift his gaze far enough to see Sam sleeping in the chair on the other side of his bed, face pillowed on the side rail in a way that looked incredibly uncomfortable. That did explain the snoring.

Josh furrowed his brow as the rest of what Donna had said seeped in. A day and a half? “‘M I okay?” he asked, raising his free hand to try and feel around on his body. Now that he was thinking about it, there was still a lot of pain pretty close to the surface of his thoughts. He would not like to feel the brunt of that. It seemed to be mostly centered in his chest, which was covered in thick, scratchy bandages. “What?” he managed, trying and failing utterly to sit up.

Donna reached out and caught his hand, smoothing it back into place on the bed next to him with little shushing sounds. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she promised. “You’re going to be just fine. The doctors are taking care of you, and Sam and I are right here. Everything’s going to be all right.”

That seemed a little bit hard to believe, but Donna hardly ever lied right to his face, and she hardly ever led him astray. If she said it would be okay, it probably would be. He’d take the assertion on face value for the moment. He sighed and settled back against the bed, only a little worried at the effort it took to breathe that deeply. "Gwan," he instructed, letting his eyes fall back to half-mast. 

"What?" she asked. 

He waved his fingers slightly. "Read more. My many 'complishmns," he elaborated. 

She laughed aloud at that, a nice sound. "Of course you'd want to hear that," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate, Donna the way he liked her best and hardly ever got to have her. 

The laugh was finally enough noise to wake Sam, who startled into consciousness mid-snore, looking even more confused than Josh for a minute. "I'm up! What?" He stared across the bed at Donna, seeming to totally ignore Josh for the moment. "What's wrong?" 

Donna chuckled again and jerked her chin in Josh's direction. "Himself is awake," she informed Sam good-humoredly, "and demanding I read him all the glowing articles people have been writing about him." 

"Josh!" Sam's worry changed to relief the moment he looked Josh's way, and soon Josh had no free hands because now Sam was holding the other one. That was okay, it wasn't like Josh was using them. "Hey, nice to see you awake, sort of. You in there?" 

Josh glared at him, but deigned to open his eyes fully to do so. "Sleepn 'n the job," he accused pointedly. 

Sam snorted. "Buddy, no amount of money would have me spending the night in one of these torture devices disguised as chairs. I'm here purely as a labor of love." Something about the phrasing of that tugged at Josh's brain, but he was already distracted by the fact that Sam looked almost as disheveled as Donna, except he was wearing a sadly-wrinkled suit instead of a t-shirt and cardigan. His hair was completely indescribable, and there was a thick red line across one cheek from the bedrail. "How are you feeling?" 

""unno," Josh admitted, not about to try and verbalize the sensations roiling beneath the surface of what had to be some pretty good drugs and sluggishly crawling along over top of them. "Tired. 'N Donna's mean." 

"Hey!" Donna exclaimed. Josh smirked at her, and for some reason that got both her and Sam smiling again. Man, he must have been in bad shape. "You better behave yourself if you want me to read this horrible stuff to you. I swear to god, every newspaper this week. I'm going to clip them all out and make you a really embarrassing scrapbook." 

Josh thought he would like to see that scrapbook, it would probably fill in a lot of details he didn't have right now. But later. Later was good. "Kay," he told her, and settled back to listen, letting his eyes fall shut.


	2. String Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave comments if you like this one, especially if there is any vignette in particular you want to see from the weeks of recovery. This one is entirely reader-driven. :D

Sam stepped briskly out of the elevator and into the hallway of the Acute Care ward, his scuffed wingtips making flat tapping noise on the tile. The first time he’d stepped onto the floor it had been like an assault: the pitiless blue-white fluorescent lights, the constant beeping of a thousand different machines, the overwhelming astringent smell of hospital cleansers and sick people, underlaid by a sharp hint of blood, but by now he was used to all of it. He made his way quickly down the long corridor, careful as always to avoid glancing through any open doors into other people’s tragedies, and stopped by the nurses station. “Evening, Angie,” he began pleasantly. “How did it go today?” 

The nurse on duty gave him a faint smile and seesawed her hand. “Hey Sam. Not too bad, considering. I think he’s sleeping now, but we gotta go in for meds in half an hour anyway. Oh, and Donna’s sleeping on the cot again. See if you can get her to go home for awhile, would you? If she gets any paler, we’re going to run an IV line and start charging her for the bed.” 

Sam grimaced. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “Thanks for looking out for them.” He gave her a smile he hoped was still winning after a thirteen hour day and continued down the hall to room 1217. The rooms in this ward were never truly dark and never truly quiet, but this one was dim and muted, a silent television playing a rerun of Night Court on the wall while a bevy of monitors blinked and hummed behind the bed. 

It was still a bit of a shock to realize that the figure in the bed was Josh, even after four days. With his face slack and immobile in drugged sleep, his curly hair flat and limp from old sweat, and the spiderweb of lines and tubes affixing him to the bed, he didn’t look like the man Sam knew. He looked fragile and somehow brittle, drawn fine like a pencil sketch of himself. Sam set down his bags and took Josh’s hand, suddenly desperate to feel the warmth that meant Josh was still real. Josh’s fingers twitched in his, curling slightly at the touch, but he didn’t wake. Sam sighed.

He looked across the room to where Donna was curled on a cot sized for an eight year old, her slender frame all but invisible beneath a pile of hospital bedding. Her hair was the only thing really showing, a tousled blonde cloud that he felt the brief urge to smooth back into place, make her into the Donna he recognized. He didn’t, obviously, it would’ve been too strange. It was just hard to know how to relate to Donna in this strange liminal space where the West Wing may as well not exist. “Hey kiddo,” he said instead, barely raising his voice to conversational volume. “When’s the last time you went home?” 

Josh didn’t move at all, but the blanket pile shifted to reveal Donna, first her waving arms and then the rest of her as she struggled upright. “What?” she asked blearily, then “kiddo?” 

“I was trying a thing,” Sam told her, hiding the wince of embarrassment. “Angie says you’re in danger of getting your mail forwarded to the Acute Care wing. When’s the last time you were home?” 

Donna frowned at him, her lower lip jutting in a pout that made her look about five years old. “Angie’s a tattletale,” she complained. “Anyway, I was home just yesterday afternoon,” she informed him virtuously. 

Sam gave her a look. He didn’t know Donna like Josh did, but he knew her well enough after nearly three years. “How long did you stay?” 

She cut her eyes away, guilty. “Awhile.” 

“More than an hour?” She didn’t answer, so he set Josh’s hand down carefully and walked around the bed. “You need to go home, Donna,” he insisted, keeping his voice pitched carefully soft. “Get some sleep in an actual bed, eat something that didn’t come from a hospital cafeteria. This isn’t going to be a sprint, and you need to take care of yourself.” 

The mutinous look on her face said Donna was ready to argue, but just as quickly it bled away, leaving her hugging her arms to her chest. “I don’t want to go,” she admitted quietly. “I’m afraid something’s going to happen if I’m away too long. I don’t want… I don’t want to get another phone call.” 

Sam sat down on the cot next to her, ignoring the way it rocked forward, and put his arm around her. It felt less awkward than he might have expected, possibly because they were both so tired. “I know,” he murmured. “But he’s getting better. Angie said today was a good day, right?” 

Donna nodded, leaning into him almost in spite of herself. There was exhaustion in every line of her body. “They stepped down the medication a little more today, so he was awake for a couple hours in the morning and the afternoon. Kinda loopy still,” she admitted with a faint smile, “but he remembered me being there yesterday, remembered where he was and why he’s here. The respiratory therapist came in.” She drew a deep breath herself, shuddering a little with it. “Five breaths into the machine and he was nearly crying from the pain. Josh doesn’t cry.” Her voice was plaintive. 

He tipped his face down, his forehead nearly brushing her hair as he swallowed past a lump in his own throat. “He does sometimes,” he managed, “he just doesn’t like anybody to see it. He’d rather be the invincible guy.” 

“The infuriating guy,” Donna corrected, her voice thick. “Do you know he asked me for files this afternoon?” 

That got a soft laugh from Sam. “I can’t say I’m surprised. What did you tell him?” 

“That it’d be a cold day in hell, basically,” she replied, sticking her lip out in the beginning of a stubborn pout. “He can’t even focus his eyes to read with the drugs he’s on. I found a copy of Physics Today in the waiting room and read him an article about the scientists searching for the Grand Unified Theory. He got pretty excited.” 

“What’s the Grand Unified Theory?” Sam asked. 

Donna shrugged, her head sliding a little against his shoulder. “Beats the hell out of me. Something about all the particles in the universe being made up of tiny vibrating strings, and the way they vibrates might explain how gravity and magnets work. I dunno, I’m really tired. But now he wants to know more, so I have to find an internet connection and get on JSTOR to find him reading materials. And maybe an intro to physics book.” 

“It’ll keep him busy?” Sam offered, a little weakly. “He’s a guy who needs a hobby.” 

Before Donna could reply, a scratchy whisper from the bed interrupted them. “Hey, you guys talking about me?” Sam looked up to see Josh with his eyes open, his head turned just far enough that he could see them. “Better be something good.” 

Quick as a wink, Donna wriggled out from Sam’s arm to bounce to her feet, all traces of exhaustion buried under cheerful efficiency as she picked up a covered plastic cup from the side table. “Of course,” she told him. “I was just telling Sam how you’re the next Einstein. Not Albert, mind you,” she added, “but maybe one of the lesser-known cousins. Egbert Einstein, the furniture salesman from Dusseldorf.” She held the straw up to his lips. “How are you feeling?” 

Sam watched as Josh took a sip, struggling not to look away from how much it obviously hurt Josh just to raise his head enough to drink. “Shitty,” Josh rasped. “What time’s it?” 

“About half past ten,” Donna informed him, setting the cup aside. “Angie will be in pretty soon with your meds. You want I should ask her for more jello?” 

The face Josh made at that suggestion was evocative enough to have Donna giggling. “”You’re a terrible-” he began, but broke off as a wheeze overtook the words and he began to cough. Each bark was deep and accompanied by a shudder of pain. 

Sam stood up hastily and grabbed the remote for the bed, raising the head to keep Josh from choking on anything he coughed out of his damaged lungs. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, hating the fact that he didn’t have anything better to say or do. It was suddenly all too clear what had pushed Donna to the brink of tears earlier. He caught one of Josh’s hands and squeezed it, then placed it over the heart-shaped pillow Donna was pressing to Josh’s chest. “Just hang on, you’re okay.” 

The fact that Josh didn’t give him the stinkeye for such an asinine comment was almost more unnerving than the cough itself. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, supporting Josh’s body with his own, and felt Donna doing the same thing on the other side. It was a short eternity before the coughs quieted, leaving Josh’s ragged breathing the loudest sound in the room.

“Well,” Josh finally said, his voice little more than a rasp, “that sucked.” 

“You shouldn’t have called me terrible,” Donna teased, her light tone belied by the quavering edge to her voice. “Lay back and you can press the morphine button again, it’ll make it easier to take your pills.” With Sam and Donna both helping, they got him situated in the bed and partially reclined by the time Nurse Angie came in with her thermometer, blood pressure cuff and medication. Josh was asleep again by the time she’d finished. 

“And that’s pretty much how the day went,” Donna told Sam tiredly. 

“You should go home and get some sleep,” Sam told her again, then cut her off before she could tell him no again. “You’ve got the internet at your place, and a printer. And clean clothes, a shower, your bed…” When she looked like she was vacillating, he played his trump card. “They’re only going to let one of us stay the night. I’d like to do it tonight.” 

Donna scrubbed her hands over her face. “Yeah, all right, fine,” she finally agreed. “Just don’t let anybody upset him, okay? Make sure he sleeps, and that the pillows stay arranged properly so his neck is supported. And the blinds need to be closed in the pointed-up position and not down when the sun starts coming up or-” 

“Donna!” Sam smiled at her. “It’ll be okay. Go home.” He helped her gather her things and called a cab for her, then sat down in the chair next to the bed. The room was quiet again but for the machines and Josh’s breathing. Alone, Sam ran a light hand over Josh’s forehead, smoothing back the fine, curly hairs still damp with sweat from the coughing attack. “You’d better get well soon,” he told Josh softly, “or we’re all definitely going to go crazy.”


	3. Popular Science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a chapter of something! Amazing! Hope you enjoy, please leave feedback if you like it.

“Two more breaths, now one more, you can do it... okay, relax.” 

“It's funny how you think I can relax without breathing,” Josh wheezed, even as he slumped back against his stack of awful hospital pillows. Given that this hospital stay was probably going to cost him as much as a decent house in the outer Beltway, one would think they could spring for a feather pillow or two. He gave the respiratory therapist his best glare, which didn't faze her a bit. He was definitely not at the top of his game right now. 

“It'll get easier,” the therapist, named Judy or Ruby or something promised him, setting aside the torture device she'd been making him blow into. “How's the discomfort?” 

“It's also funny how you think if you call it discomfort instead of pain, it won't hurt as much,” he grumbled, the words taking a little longer than usual between short and shallow breaths. 

“Well, the fact that you're complaining about it is a good sign,” she told him with obscene good cheer. “I find that my patients who are truly feeling lousy don't want to talk at all.” 

“It would take more than discomfort to stop Josh from talking,” Donna piped up from the corner of the room. Josh had nearly forgotten she was there, perched with her notebook and taking notes on every detail of every doctor he'd seen today. He'd thought it was stupid until they'd gotten to lunchtime and he realized he couldn't even remember what the first doctor of the day had looked like, much less what he'd said. Donna, on the other hand, seemed to have made fast friends with all of them instantly. “One time he put his back out from sleeping on the campaign bus, and he dictated ten pages of briefing notes while he was curled up on the floor with a heating pad.” 

The therapist laughed, damn her. “So you're saying that I should be more worried the more he talks?” 

“That's generally my rule of thumb,” Donna confirmed, straight-faced. 

He cut her a narrow-eyed look. “You should work on that comedy routine if you're planning on going full-time with it,” he informed her, pleased when the words came out surer and stronger. 

“Most people think I'm very funny,” she told him blithely. 

“Oh, I think you're funny,” he countered, “just not funny ha-ha-” 

“If you can be mean to me, you're not breathing hard enough.” Donna folded her legs and rearranged her notes, giving him an unimpressed look. 

“Sounds like she's got your number, buddy,” Judy-Ruby said, looking almost sympathetic. Almost. “Now ten more breaths into the spirometer, and see if you can get two of the balls moving this time.” Maybe not so sympathetic after all. He eyed the breathing machine with great dislike. 

“If you get done before three, we won't miss any of the Mets game,” Donna suggested coyly. “They're playing the Dodgers again.” 

Josh rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they did that yesterday and got spanked. Forgive me if I'm not eager for another helping. That's seven losses in a row, Donna.” 

“Well you can't expect them to win with that attitude,” she said primly. “They obviously need your support.” 

“They need to start hitting the damn ball is what they need,” Josh groused, but turned his attention back to the machine, ignoring Donna's smile. 

+++

 

“And they finally pulled one out of the bag, but I was asleep for the last three innings!” Josh complained, in between breaths. He was white-knuckling the walker to stay upright after fifteen arduous feet of hallway, which was absolutely not okay. If he couldn't do better than this when it came to walking and talking, nobody was going to let him go back to work. “And Donna the traitor didn't even wake me up!” 

“You were both sleeping when I came in,” Sam pointed out, obviously amused. Josh ignored that, as he ignored the hovering hand Sam kept putting behind his back as though he expected Josh to collapse at any second. “It sounds like you had a long day. Did Toby make it over?” 

“Yeah, for maybe half an hour,” Josh grumbled. They were almost back to the door of his room, he could make it that far. “Donna chased him off when he started yelling about hate crimes legislation again. And then she had the nerve to blame him when my blood pressure was up!” 

“Your blood pressure was up?”Sam asked, instantly concerned. That was not the supportive brotherhood reaction Josh was hoping for. “By how much?” 

“I don't know,” Josh said irritably. He would've waved a dismissive hand if he weren't trying to keep from falling over while simultaneously not resting too much of his body weight on his arms. “Donna wrote it down in the book. That's not the point. She's talking about making Rules, Sam.” 

“Rules, huh?” Josh wasn't looking at Sam, but he could still hear the entirely inappropriate grin in Sam's voice. “Well, you should be familiar with that, as I recall you had some rules for the campaign too, didn't you? No briefing books in bed, no energy drinks after 2am, breakfast-”

“Yes, I remember the goddamn rules, Sam!” Josh groused. “They were infantilizing!” 

“I'm fairly sure they kept you alive,” Sam countered mildly. 

“Well she's bringing them back, with a vengeance.” Josh paused in the middle of the hallway, trying to look like he was making a point instead of gathering his strength. “She's talking about limiting my work calls, setting visiting hours even after I get home from the hospital, figuring out a special diet. She's talking about enforcing enforcing naptime, Sam! What am I, two?” 

“I wish somebody would enforce naptime on my behalf,” Sam said wistfully. “Better yet, I wish somebody would put Toby down for a nap. You said he was in here yelling?” 

“He wants to go after West Virginia White Pride, something like that,” Josh mumbled, focusing again on the walker. Suddenly he didn't feel much like talking about this. He hadn't felt much like talking about it with Toby, actually, and had been kind of glad when Donna had nudged him out the door, except that then she'd started talking Rules and making notes on her legal pad. Not really thinking about what had happened to put him in the hospital had served Josh pretty well so far, and he was going to ride that horse until he couldn't take it any further. 

“I'll talk to him,” Sam promised. “You look like you're about done with exercise for now, why don't we go see if we can catch the Knicks highlights?” He steered Josh back into his room achingly slowly, but even so Josh's legs were shaking by the time he sank back onto the bed. 

The orderly had changed the sheets while he'd been up, and the new ones were white and starchy as fresh paper. Donna was gone by now, stumbling home for food and a few hours sleep in her own bed before coming back for the morning shift. Josh could still smell her perfume faintly under the astringent hospital odors and the floral aroma of his small forest of get-well arrangements. While Josh played with the remote to find the optimal reclining level to let himself breathe, Sam picked up the doctor notebook and began looking through it. “It's boring,” Josh warned him. “I can give you the gist though: there's a repaired hole the size of a walnut through a fair amount of my internal anatomy and it's giving me some trouble.”

“Very helpful,” Sam murmured, obviously not paying him any attention. “They really did put you through the wringer today. Cardiologist, pulmonologist, respiratory therapist, surgical follow up, physical therapist, psychologist... That's a new one, how did that go?” 

Josh shrugged. “Short, which was a welcome change. She wanted to know what I remembered and if I was having nightmares, how I felt about being in the hospital, mostly just the normal how-do-you-feel bullshit.” He grinned a little. “I told her since the thing went down at the Newseum, I thought I was probably developing a crippling phobia of journalists.” 

“I think the feeling's mutual, but I'll ask Danny to make sure.” Sam looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but thankfully he refrained. Josh wondered if he could get that added to the Rules, a daily limit on people asking asinine questions about his recovery. That would almost make the napping worth it. Instead, Sam took the very uncomfortable vinyl recliner next to the bed and kicked up the footrest. “Ready for TV?” 

Josh shrugged, not quite willing to admit that he wasn't sure he could focus on the pictures right now. He was due for his meds soon, but for now there was a headache pounding behind his eyes to go with the huge, deep ache that seemed to encompass his entire torso. 

Sam studied him for a minute, then picked up one of the magazines instead. “How about I read to you again?” he suggested. “Looks like Donna put a bookmark in this library book. Superforce: the Search for a Grand Unified Theory of Nature?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Read the last chapter again.” Josh sighed and closed his eyes as Sam began reading, his beautiful speaking voice flowing over the words like a river over smooth stones. Donna had read the same material to him earlier and Josh still wasn't sure he understood it, but the idea was reassuring. Even if they didn't have it down yet, somewhere out there was a system that explained why things happened the way they did, and someday humans would understand. He drifted to sleep wondering about it.


End file.
